sobota, 17 września 2011

18.09.11 - a personal note

I was away recently, mostly because of some odd jobs I had to do to support myself. I'm running short of time and I really hope I will be able to keep up with this blog  in the future as I'm going to attend a trade school which is located about sixty kilometers from my house (provided they accept my application, of course). And the academic year starts on the first of the next month. A grim perspective for the next two years, but there are no other alternatives that don't suck.

Anyway, I did a piece in Blender, mostly inspired by the work of Andrew Price at Kudos for him, he's amazing. This one is a simple scene and I seriously think about extending it. The final effect went as planned, but after seeing some reference photos of underground tunnels I thought that this one was too simple and additional modelling would be neat in this case. If I ever finish the new one, I'll show you guys.

środa, 7 września 2011


Ever played the Silent Hill series? Ever read one of Kafka's novels? I bet you did at least one of those. If you didn't, well, I think you may not fully get what I'm about to tell you. Neither am I going to tell you about some new game – there's plenty of gaming blogs and I'm quite sure that there are also people who would handle that topic much better than me. What unites these two is the certain feeling of oppression and fear that I failed to find anywhere else but in Ligotti's books. Other horror writers and artists are usually very straightforward – bam, here comes the monster and that's it, you're supposed to get scared. This time, however, the type of fear is quite different. Nothing comes running at you, nope. I think the best words that illustrate Silent Hill and Ligotti (I wonder if it's right to put these two together; seems I'm a laic after all) and other horrors are fear and anxiety. Fear is the conventional scenario with the usual shock scene of a monster jumping at you from darkness. Anxiety has no definite shape and this is the thing that can be seen in these two. Every time I submerge myself in Ligotti's novels I feel intangible, ominous anxiety that you can't really put a finger on. A kind of worry some of the residents of the madhouses may tell you about (such phenomena are experienced by people with PTSD or dissociation disorders in a much more sharpened form).
The thing is, there's nothing with these texts and lyrics apart from that they're weird (which is why Ligotti's works have been classified as weird fiction). Most of these are neutral, but still threatening.
I can't really paste here a larger excerpt of some of his text without a major copyright infringement and smaller would only lose all the that this man achieved while writing his novels.
All I can really do is to get some Current 93 (another great band I should write about sometime) songs and one soundscape of which lyrics were written by Ligotti. Hope that explains everything.

wtorek, 6 września 2011


The first thought that comes right after someone mentions „alt art” is the game art. Suddenly, pixelated Mario becomes quite real in his plumber suit, posing like a dictator, koopas about and bombs flying overhead. It seems that alt art has become something like a keyword for all sort of playing with original popular culture icons like Mario, Sonic and the like. It doesn't limit itself only to games, but takes other old-school icons into account, like Scooby-Doo or Simpsons, always merging the existent content with new ideas and playing with conventions. In any case of this type, the keyword is always “alt art”.
I'll write more about this one soon.

poniedziałek, 5 września 2011


Jazz again.
I bet anyone who got a lick of the music also heard of the Big Bad Voodoo Daddy band. They mainly play swing and to be honest swing is the only jazz subgenre I like (as you can see, I'm very picky). I don't dabble in the bands' histories - all I really want to have is to listen to good music and to forward it to someone else so they can listen, too.
The second video is a classic of the big band golden era. And yes, it's Ben Goodman. Maybe I should be ashamed of posting something so obvious here, but I don't count on it that everyone who visits the blog listens to jazz music.
What really appeals to me in the genre is that is much more "intelligent" and "good-mannered" than popular music, provided we can apply such terms towards music. Small wonder if we consider the fact that jazz had its greatest peak of popularity some seventy years ago, when noone could use autotune in their songs and musicians were actually forced to compose music to achieve success. You know, it's quite like what that Cortez from the Longest Journey said about old movies which have much more sould that these produced currently.

Well, enough bullshitting for today, here they are:

niedziela, 4 września 2011


Blogger recommendation: Flying Teapot

My recent post have been dedicated to weird art (frankly, the whole blog is devoted to promotion of alternative art). These mangas are particularly unpopular among mainstream consumers mostly due to the radical approach of their authors. Normally, people don't want anything that is that emotion-stirring.
I feel happy to say that I am not the only freak interested in such. Flying Teapot is the man behind a blog promoting alternative art, too, or so would I describe the stuff the guy posts. The content is highly varied, but guro mangas are also included. So, anyone feeling like they didn't have enough of blood pouring from the pages of the two aforementioned artists, feel free to browse. I've been watching him for some time and can recommend it with clear conscience for anyone who is deathly bored with rubbish the mainstream is throwing at us.

piątek, 2 września 2011


Artist spotlight: Shintaro Kago

Weird manga day again!
Perhaps, guro means gore in Japanese. It doesn't really make much of difference. I just googled the term in Wikipedia and voila, it proved me right. Well, partially. The possible difference between Japanese macabre and forums devoted for morgue photos is that the amount of bizarre and grotesque in the West oscillates at quite low levels. In Japan, things are different, and these levels of weirdness are skyrocketing. Once, my friend said that if it's Japanese, it doesn't have to make sense and I think he's got a point. Kago's work is one of the most grotesque, nonsensical and weird piece of art I have ever laid my eyes on. Just look at this one:

Many people who arrive in Japan swear it's like suddenly finding themselves on an alien planet. Kago may seem to epitomize all the Japan bizarreness. Not that there are no alternatives, because you should know that Japanese manga library is full of weirdish stuff. Shintaro Kago is typical here. I could even say: so you want to explore Japan? Here, take this. And this. Yes, they have it, too.
I have to say that his works are not intended for the fainthearted. He did work on aborted fetuses worn as hats and on a village of which denizens drown women each year, to name only few. And there's more. Much, much more. In a strange-yet-fascinating way, he blends erotica with macabre, adding a few pinches of surrealism and his standard nonsense. Once you get to know his style, there's no way to miss it.
So, who is the work intended for? When you are bored with standard mainstream manga media (these dull and repetitive ones I mentioned in the previous post), you may give it a shot. Expect to be shocked. In fact, you will be shocked.

czwartek, 1 września 2011


I don't like mangas at all. Most of them are terrible in many aspects. Poor plot, ridiculous anatomy of the characters and dull cliche repetition are only some of the more obvious. Yet, for some mysterious reason, people keep reading them, completely ignoring the west comic school.
But then again, there are notable exceptions. One of them is Junji Ito who fills a terrible hole in the market and indeed there are few good horror comics. And when I say good horror comics, I mean it. Too much ink has been spilled only to produce laughable abortions. Thank God that Junji Ito is different.

But what really hit me in all his works is that he actually tells stories and makes art. No grotesque big-eyed girls staring at you from every page. And yet you can easily pick his style from the crowd. It's distinct due to its anatomical realism or, perhaps better said, surrealism. Either way, things he draws look convincing and that is the point. His art and stories do stir emotions in the sea of dullness and misunderstanding.

(Images from: Secret of the Haunted Mansion, Uzumaki)

środa, 31 sierpnia 2011


I know that this blog is mostly about visual arts and literature, but after hearing this I couldn't resist. I think that I will post some great jazz pieces from time to time (I love swing, personally).
Ladies and gentlemen, here it is: Tape Five and Henry Wager in Dixie Biscuit.

wtorek, 30 sierpnia 2011


A quick sketch I did. I hope that I will be able to post something bigger soon. The reference is on the left.

I also dropped that weird German numeration. No more hipster German, I guess.

niedziela, 24 lipca 2011


Marcin Swietlicki - Laying

Or maybe I am just a monster,
monster on vacation?
I am laying on the beach wearing black glasses
staring at the proto-heaven
I am staring at the proto-heaven, I would not
bear his May proto-shining if it were not for the vacation
I would not bear the shining, I am usually hiding
in dungeons from the hunt.
It's the brightest in here. Here, under the proto-street lamp.
I am the monster on vacation.
I am kissing the bright specter in the Proto-sun
Pinch me, pinch me – I am murmuring towards the specter


Artist spotlight: Vincent Marcone



Poet spotlight: Marcin Swietlicki

He debuted in 1992 with his book Zimne kraje (Cold countries). After his debut he gained recognition as one of the greatest contemporary poetry writers. Originating from the so-called pokolenie brulionu (the notebook generation), Swietlicki, along with the musicians from the Trupa Wertera Utrata group, formed the Swietliki group (the Fireflies). The Krakow group kept making the compositions to his poetry ever since. 

sobota, 23 lipca 2011


The title of the Stockholm's Nationalmuseum exhibition is Lust and Vice. The exhibition, being rich and cleverly assembled, is taking place in Stockholm. The exhibition, containing 200 works gathered from various ages, cultures and countries, treats about human sexuality, morality, and, finally, what means to commit crime against these. What's worthy of note, the exhibition assumes no moral judgment, choosing merely to inform and leaving the visitor with his own
The exhibition will last till the 4th of August.


Marcin Swietlicki - Universities

Nothing to be ashamed of: the boy studied
in the attic – any other education
is unnecessary - when it was morning he set sail
towards the bed – climbing the stairs
- blocked the entry off with a wardrobe – treading confidently
through the middle of the attic itself – and the spiders strained
with discipline on their
guard posts.
The boy undressed, stayed and soaked.

Heaven spoke through the hole in the roof,
and birds spoke through the heaven,
through the birds spoke the hands of deaf-mute
God. All the good
comes from the deaf-mute.


Artist spotlight: Trevor Brown

piątek, 22 lipca 2011


Artist spotlight: Erin Shain


Furia wracała wtedy, kiedy nie mógł przebyć jakiejś bariery, obojętnie, czy była nią kolejna odmowa pracy, czy też po prostu to wrzeszczące dziecko. Nierzadko zresztą przeklinał sam siebie, że pozwolił sobie na tę parę chwil słabości. Weneryczna rozpusta – jak nierzadko nazywał swoje wyczyny w myślach. Nie do wiary, że parę chwil może tak diametralnie zmienić perspektywy człowieka na osiemnaście długich lat – nie licząc, oczywiście, dziewięciomiesięcznego okresu, w którym bękart rozwijał się w brzuchu swojej sprytnej matki. Dalej nie liczył, bo zawsze wyobrażał sobie, że dziecko powinno w wieku lat osiemnastu wyfrunąć z domu, kompletnie niepomny tego, że z rodzicami przesiedział lat dwadzieścia pięć.
Jeszcze jeden telefon z wymijającą odpowiedzią dotyczącą jego Curriculum Vitae sprawił, że na parę minut popadł w stupor; przekroczył bowiem jakąś granicę, w której można zaciskać zęby i marszczyć brwi. Usiadł po prostu w jakiejś półpozycji, patrząc tępo na podłogę.
Nie zawsze tak było, oczywiście. Przez parę pierwszych lat w jakiś sposób pomagało mu to. Wpadanie we wściekłość stanowiło pewnego rodzaju katharsis, lek na całe zło, które go otaczało – na kobietę, która zmusiła go, żeby został, i na dziecko, które było łańcuchem, którym go do siebie przykuła. Nieraz zresztą, kiedy w nocy, śpiąc na kanapie przed telewizorem pełnym jasnoniebieskiego śniegu, czuł obrzydliwą, oślizgłą pępowinę, która zaciskała się na jego szyi niczym pętla szubienicy.
Wykręcił kolejny numer.
- Halo? Witam, mam pytanie, czy nie przyjęliby państwo nauczyciela języka angielskiego z dyplomem dwóch uczelni z doskonałymi referencjami? Nie? Momencik, momencik, czy może pani...
Furia-stupor-furia. Choć częściej stupor. W przeciągu tych paru lat coraz bardziej czuł się jak popioły ogniska, które próbowało strawić cały las, nie mogąc nigdy przeobrazić się w pożar, który mógłby pożreć coś więcej niż parę zgniłych liści.
Nienawidził swojego słodkiego głosu, który zawsze wzywał wtedy, kiedy rozmawiał ze swoim potencjalnym przyszłym pracodawcą. Zawsze łajał się, że skoro i tak nie dał rady dostać pracy, to powinien był brzmieć bardziej pańsko lub bardziej niedbale. Ale kilka minut potem, kiedy zbierał się w sobie, wszystko wyparowywało.
Rynek nie faworyzował jego wykształcenia, stwierdził po prostu kiedyś. To było normalne i należało się po prostu przekwalifikować – odejść, odejść, odejść...


One of my sketches. Not the best one, but still working on my drawings. I just wanted to draw something with a man with flaming head.

czwartek, 21 lipca 2011


Youtube user spotlight:


Random words: Association, degree, limb.

Organizacja Łatania Poszarpanych Kończyn mieściła się na samym szczycie dawno już zamkniętego bloku. Blok – zwykły, szary, niewyróżniający się niczym szczególnym, poza tym chyba, że Organizacja stanowiła zaledwie jeden biurowiec w całym bloku.
Tak właściwie, to Organizacja była jedynym użytkownikiem bloku, zajmując całe dwa piętra – jedno najwyższe, drugie pod tym pierwszym, zaś pod tymi dwoma piętrami użytkowymi mieściło się jeszcze dziewięć pięter pustych pokoi, w których z rozbitych okien hulał wiatr, latem śmierdziało stęchlizną i czymkolwiek, co jeszcze mogło gnić, natomiast zimą i jesienią zimno wdzierało się do zamkniętych i zabarykadowanych mieszkań.
Sam OŁPK był czymś w rodzaju efemery. Dwa najwyższe piętra nie miały rozbitych szyb, a zawsze czujne oczy ciekawskich zauważały, że w nocy świeciły w budynku światła.
Przez pierwsze dwa lata działania Organizacji można było jeszcze wejść do środka, choć było to trudne i tak właściwie mało kto chciał – nikt, kto wiódł rozsądne życie nie zamierzał odwalić starych drzwi i wbiec po schodach na górę, tylko po to, by się przekonać, że dwa najwyższe piętra są dla niego nieosiągalne. Dostępu do tych broniły żelazne drzwi.
Ciekawski lokator wiedział jednak, że światła lamp były czymś więcej niż tylko kolejnym żartem agencji reklamowych, które płatały bzdurne figle na terenie Krakowa. Stare kobiety – ponieważ zawsze w takich przypadkach decydującą rolę pełnią stare kobiety, które siedzą w jednym miejscu na tyle długo, by znać je jak własną kieszeń – doniosły, że do OŁPK wchodzą czasami od góry ludzie ubrani w garnitury.
Jedna z nich, Janina, przysięgała, że widziała, jak pięcioro z nich układa pieczołowicie pomost z desek pomiędzy jednym zgniłym blokiem a drugim, po to, by przejść na zaimprowizowanym pomoście i wejść przez świetlik. Niestety, starej nie dał wiary nikt. Jak zwykle, starym kobietom nie daje wiary nikt.